Downstairs
by DeangirlSam1212
Summary: Alastair comes and takes the boys off into the depths of Hell. While Sam is forced to helplessly watch Dean from the past get tortured, Dean forgets that he was ever saved. Hurt!Worried!Sam Hurt!Scared!Dean Sorry I suck at summaries.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Sam made his way towards the now open motel door.

"I'll go ahead and start the car. Meet me outside."

Dean replied with an absentmindedly shrug "Yea, okay."

Walking over to his duffle, he started to sift through all the items within it.

Then something caught his eye.

A mark, a black mark, with an inverted cross and sun, and a moon behind.

"Sam," he called out warily. "Sam, come here."

"Yea," and Sam casually popped his head in, without a worry in the world, for the moment.

Dean hated to spoil that carelessness.

Sam barely ever got to act like that of a normal life.

But this was kind of important.

It was of which a symbol he'd never set eyes upon before.

"Come look at this."

Sam crossed the room in three long strides.

"What is it?" The younger brother grew creases between his brows in curiosity.

"It's a time travel travel marking, dumbassess," the cruel words slices and scraped at their spines and sent them spinning on their heels.

"Hello Dean, Sam."

"Alastair,",Sam's hatred oozed rapidly from his glaring orbs.

While Dean just vigilantly stood his ground.

"What do you want," the older sibling growled.

Practically bristling with distaste.

"Oh, nothing much. Just wish to take you someplace," as the demon spoke the symbol began to glow in amber and grow to swallow them.

"Sam," Dean's panicked sonancy brought the younger hunter to glance his way.

"Dean!"

Dean tried to grab for Sam's sleave but, before he could lay hands on the cloth he vanished.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Sam franticly whirled around and around.

Looking for his big brother, only to realize he was longer in the motel room, but in one of flame.

Screams and shreeks were a constant, uprupting from deep within.

Souls were scattered everywhere, appearing then disapearing before his very eyes.

Some were falling, some were being whipped, some screamed for no apparent reason, balled up upon the blood soaked ground.

Their hands cupped over their absent ears.

Crimson tears flooded from the black wholes where their eyes should have been.

Hot flameing breezes occasionally blew his hair up in a frenzy of brown.

One scream outlawed all of the others.

It couldn't even be considered a scream for it was more like an injured animal.

It was of pure pain, pure lonliness. And hints of insanity danced in the moonlight just around the corner.

"Saaaaam!" Dean's cracked, tortured holler was now the only thing Sam's ears could pick up.

"Dean! Where are you?" Sam ran in search, just imagining Dean as one of the long forgotten souls with the scars that would never be completely burried.

"This way, Sammy," Alastair directed him, his loose skinned hand pointing to the tunnel smelling most strongly of death and burning flesh.

"As soon as Dean's soul touched the death platter we reserved a special room for your big brother." The torturer grinned wickedly with teeth of blood stains.

Sam's eyes widened in horror and sprinted at almost inhuman speed.

"Dean!" His yell was continuous and desperate.

As he ran through the dreadful tunnel, hands reaching from its depths.

Reaching for him, reaching for help they all knew had no existance here.

For it was now clear where here was: Hell.

"Aaaahhh please, stop," Dean gurgled from somewhere ahead.

Suddenly there was the terrible sound of choking. He heard his big brother gasp for breath. Then it just abruptly stops.

"Dean noo," he called for Dean, even though he knew what came next.

And he almost wished for his brother's death. Almost.

Sam emerged into a small metal room.

Chains, hooks, spikes, and whatever you could imagine hung from the walls and ceiling. A silver bed stood in the middle of the room.

The face of the bed was decorated with tiny needles, sharp as blades.

And laying, chained with knives and stakes plastering him to the needles through his arms and legs.

He still silently sputtered for his tongue was nailed to the wall.

Tears streamed, with passion, down is angry red swolen cheeks.

His fingertips were melted as if stuck in flame and left it as that for hours.

Dean Winchester lay defeated upon a demon's torture table.

Sam ran over and scrabbled freneticly at the chains gripping Dean's broken wrists.

They wouldn't budge, not one inch.

"You can't do anything but watch in this one, I'm afraid.

This is of the past.

Only I can touch, and even I have limits in the past.

I can only play my role: torture.

Anything else would be as what you can feel or touch," Sam heard Alastair's growl from behind him.

Sam was unable to do anything but stare with his mouth agape.

The torturer stepped into his line of sight and over to Dean's bed.

He looked greedily down upon his big brother. Anticipation shone brightly in his dark eyes.

Sam swung for the side of the demon's face but his fist past right through.

He looked at Alastair in surprise.

The monster just smirked and jabbed the knife deep into Dean's stomach as if it were a sewing needle.

Dean gurgled and choked once again on a scream he struggled so desperately to pass his lips.

"Now lets get started," Alastair glanced up at Sam and then back hungrily to his piece of work.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Dean let a frustrated cry split the air at the unableness to shiver in this frozen wasteland.

He was forced to walk on, for each step was painful.

It was impossible to become numb for they wanted you to feel every breeze and every shard of ice break the skin your bare feet and toes.

This was no ordinary snow day.

No, in fact there wasn't a single flake of snow throughout the whole land.

There was only ice.

And it never melted. There wasn't any warmth for that.

Only pain and suffering, only that came with a burn.

And one of the worst parts was that there wasn't a single object in sight, he was all alone.

Just the ice the cold and him.

At least that's what he thought.

Suddenly his foot caught in a string of curves and spikes.

Dean was flung to the ground and into a pile of barbed wire coils.

SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN

Pain was all, and the pain was true, it sliced his skin and bled him dry.

But to a cruel, heartless fate, he'd never die, he'd never fade.

Pain was all, and the pain true, it sliced his skin and bled him dry.

Draining him of soul.

SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN

Suddenly all the memories of Hell rushed back to him in a cataract of terror.

But then Dean forgot all else.

"Oh my God,

oh my God, I never left.

It must have been that new kind of torture everydemon was talking about"

Now he lay crumbled and broken in the pile of throbbing coils.

Dean whimpered pitifully and cried for help that he knew would never come.

He would never find peace, he knew that, how could he let himself into that obvious trick of safety.

"Please help, help me."

Tears fell freely down his beaten face.

The blood slowly drained from him and stained the bleach white ice with its evil.

Sobs painfully broke any source of sanity and Dean's eyes grew darker as the demons lead him into a deep slumber.

'Another one of the new tortures,' he thought in confirmation. 'Oh well,' was his last thought as his mind shut off into a dreamful sleep.

Sam smiled happily in front of him as Dean offered him a piggy-back ride.

It split his face and spread to his ears.

The young five years old nodded eagerly and raised his hands up to grab for Dean's shoulders.

Suddenly a sickening crack destroyed their happiness and the young boy looked down in complete shock and astonishment at the growing red hole deep in his liitle chest.

Dean was pulled back hastily and was forced to watch as his little brother fell, convulsing, on the ground.

Coughing up blood, it carefully painted itself upon his horror-stricken face.

Then Sam inhaled profoundly, his visage paled and his eyes and hair blackened, cloths grayed.

The whites of his eyes stood out vividly above the rest of himself.

He stumbled roughly forward and staggered toward Dean.

For every step Sam took forward, Dean took one back.

Dean looked horridly at the creature his brother had become and tore his eyes away from the beast.

Refuseing another step.

If Sam wanted him he could have him.

Dean had never really been able to say no to the little boy anyway.

"What's the matter big brother?"

Sam sneered at his weekness.

"Afraid to fight?"

Sam raised his head to the sky and yelled out a deafening battle-cry, which quickly melted into the bellowing roar of a beast.

Long claws sank to scrape the floor followed by razor-sharp teeth.

And with a snarl the boy lunged for his older brother.

Dean woke with a start only to be snagged by pain and loneliness.

He was still wrapped around in the barbed wire and had been frozen with the ice to a metal bed as he was rolled down the endless hallway.

Doors on each side of the wall, he knew where and what he was in, for he had been here before. Even in pitch black darkness, he'd known as soon as he woke up.

He was in the 'Death Alley' as the other souls would call it.

They would moan it from within the bolted door.

The other souls named it that because the ones with sanity still lingering in them wanted a name for they place in which they were tortured.

They were tired of nameless, they also wanted to have the ability to say their own name, tell somebody that they were people once.

They wanted to be able to say these things without having there mouths be stitched up only to be wripped open again.

He knew it had happened to him enough times. But that, obviously, wasn't going to happen so they had to settle for others.

And this meant something,

this kind of torture had meaning.

The demons teach you that you are worthless.

You mean nothing.

You are nameless.

Lower then dust.

Unheard, unnoticed, neglected, overlooked.

The worst kind of torture.

But the feeling doesn't last long.

They teach you hurt and how to forget it.

And they do this until that's all you know.

And all you want to do is forget.

So that is what you do.

But, they take it too far.

They forget their names, their loves, how to speak, how to think.

They forget who they trully are.

And the demons, oh, the cruel things they are, replace you. Replace you with murder, and death.

Blood and frozen hearts.

The soul call it 'Death Alley' but, the demons call it the 'Hallway of the Unseen.'


End file.
